


breathe again

by isawritinyoureyes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Depressed Harry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, No Smut, Oneshot, Sad Harry, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, and soft, listen they're cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 18:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14624628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isawritinyoureyes/pseuds/isawritinyoureyes
Summary: A slight touch of fingers to his arm startles him, his heart rate picking up. He doesn’t flinch away though, all energy left him long ago, but what he does is open his eyes. Everything is silent for a moment as he looks into blue eyes, the shade of the sea and he wishes he could drown in them. A sudden calm washes over him, one that he hasn’t felt all day. Like he can finally breathe again for the first time.orHarry is sad and Louis offers him a place to stay.





	breathe again

He doesn’t really know where he is going, just mindlessly wandering into any direction that is offered to him without second thoughts. Right now there aren’t a lot of those in his head anyway - _thoughts_. Just a lot of emptiness and confusion. His mind is clouded with a certain heaviness he hadn’t felt in a long while. Harry isn’t stupid. He felt _it_ creeping in, slowly but surely. That’s the thing. It’s always such a _sure_ thing, like the most predictable plot. There is nothing to prevent it, nothing that stops his chest from feeling so damn constricted, his limbs from feeling ten times heavier and slower than usual. And the sadness - it’s just sitting there within his heart and his entire body, all hope slipping away through his fingertips. He doesn’t feel like moving, or breathing for that matter. He doesn’t know how to make it stop, knowing that he tried so many times to somehow rid himself of the pain that encompasses him all day long.

Harry knows that it has to pass eventually. He has found himself in this exact same situation too many times to believe the voice in the forefront of his mind that says that _it’s never going to stop, that this is how it all ends, that there’s no reason to keep going_. He has heard it enough, has heard it saying even uglier things and for a long time he has been listening too. He didn’t know that there was another option so he kept listening and he believed it all. 

Even now as he is stumbling through the streets, he is starting to surrender to his mind. All too much. Never enough. God, he is exhausted. His vision begins to get blurry on the edges, white little dots appearing before his eyes while he tries to blink them all away. He wishes he could blink _himself_ away to a place that only knows peace, warm laughter and gentleness.

He sighs, or at least he thinks he does because all he can hear is white noise. He feels like he is drifting away, getting dizzier and dizzier until he can’t hold himself upright anymore. He thinks he is at two places at once, almost like his brain can’t hold in his thoughts so they’re starting to escape his body and they are taking a part of him with them. Not long before I’m completely gone, he thinks.

At this point he has stopped walking, he leans against the nearest wall for support, trying to breathe deep. He spreads his fingers wide, palms up by his sides because that’s what helps him feel more grounded, although he doesn’t know if it is working at all. He slowly but rather ungracefully slumps to the ground, his knees bent and his head leaned against the cold wall. He hadn’t realized that he closed his eyes, or how long he has been sitting there in his own darkness, until a soft voice catches his attention. He doesn’t dare to open his eyes yet. The voice gets a little louder, it’s coming closer. He can’t make out the words that are spoken but he hopes the voice doesn’t stop talking. It is quite a nice sound.

A slight touch of fingers to his arm startles him, his heart rate picking up. He doesn’t flinch away though, all energy left him long ago, but what he does is open his eyes. Everything is silent for a moment as he looks into blue eyes, the shade of the sea and he wishes he could drown in them. A sudden calm washes over him, one that he hasn’t felt all day. Like he can finally breathe again for the first time.

“You okay?” there it is again, that voice. His surroundings are still blurry while his eyes try to focus on the stranger in front of him. It’s a boy with soft features but sharp cheekbones, lips a pretty shade of pink and his hair is the softest thing Harry has ever seen. Altogether he looks very delicate and his eyes hold so much kindness. Harry can’t really process any coherent thoughts in that moment except of _pretty pretty pretty_.

A caring smile starts to make it’s way onto the boy’s face, lips curling up at the corners as he tilts his head to the side a bit. “Are you with me now?” he asks in the softest voice as if he’s afraid of scaring Harry away.

 _Oh_ , and Harry should probably say something back now. He clears his throat, a slight blush tinting his cheeks as he replies. “I am,” his voice still breaks.

The stranger doesn’t seem to mind though, he looks rather relieved. “That’s good, thank god,” he mutters and sqeezes Harry’s forearm once again and Harry wishes he would never take his hand away. His touch feels grounding, like an anchor holding him down preventing him from floating away. “I was starting to worry, you know,” he continues then.

“About me?” is all Harry manages to get out, his eyebrows furrowing.

The boy laughs at that, all too lovely. It’s making Harry smile like an idiot. “Yeah, about you,” he confirms with a shake of his head and an almost fond look on his face. He still hasn’t taken his hand away, almost as if he needs Harry’s touch just as much as Harry needs his. “What’s your name, love?”

 _Love_. Harry doesn’t know why there are butterflies in his stomach in a situation like this, but he isn’t going to complain because it seems like he can feel again and honestly, any feeling other than sadness is very welcome right now.

So he answers while the butterflies do their thing. “Harry,”

“I’m Louis,” the boy- no _Louis_ says. “Nice to meet you, Harry,” another squeeze to his arm. “Can you stand up for me?”

“Uhm.. I think so?” Harry looks around then, taking in a couple of people passing by and he realizes he doesn’t exactly know where he is but before the panic in his chest gets a chance to rise he drifts his gaze back to Louis’ reassuring eyes again.

“That’s okay, mate. We’re gonna try though, yeah?” he encourages Harry. “I’m not gonna leave your side. I’m here,” he sighs and licks his lips. Harry traces the movement and _god_ , what’s gotten into him. Louis continues before he can think about it too much. “Listen..” he hesitates a second. “I literally live just down this street. Uh, we can walk there? And get you all comfortable. I swear I’m not a serial killer or whatever, “ he laughs but Harry can hear the nervousness in his voice. “So, what do you say?”

He knows he most probably shouldn’t, but Harry trusts him. He can see how genuine Louis is, how much he cares. He may not know why but he’s gonna take a chance because the thought of Louis leaving him alone seems so much worse. It’s the last thing he wants. So he nods his head and gets up, with determined hands helping him.

Louis doesn’t once loosen his hold on Harry’s arm, guiding him towards the building at the end of the street. There are no words exchanged while they walk, although Harry has one or two questions he would like to ask. Like _why are you doing this? why do you even care?_ but he bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to mess this up, whatever _this_ is so he just keeps on one step at a time, Louis by his side.

***

Once they are inside Louis’ flat, Harry feels more than a little sheepish. He is a mess. A complete and utter mess and for some reason unbeknownst to him this beautiful stranger wants to help. He has taken him in, offered him his kindness and all Harry can think is _thank god_ because he doesn’t know how and where he would have ended up without Louis finding him.

He sits down on the couch in the living room while Louis gets him a glass of water but stands up as soon as Louis comes back because he isn’t sure if he’s even allowed.

“No, you can sit down, don’t worry your pretty little head. Make yourself at home, Harry, “ he orders. “Seriously, what’s mine is yours and all that...” he says nonchalantly with a wave of hand while they both sit down.

Harry is so unsure of himself, he rubs his hands down his jeans and swollows before he gets the courage to speak. “Louis.. I-,” he doesn’t really know where he is going with this. “Thank you. I don’t know why- Uhm, you don’t know me and you..,”

“It’s fine,” Louis interrupts quickly and squeezes Harry’s knee for a moment before he retreats his hand altogether, unsure if Harry is alright with the touch. “Look, I don’t know what happened, “ he stares straight ahead at the black screen of the TV. “but I know, that nobody deserves to be upset and alone,” he lets out a sigh like something is troubling him. “When I saw you there, I just.. knew something was very off. You don’t need to explain, “ he rushes. “not if you don’t want to but like, I’m here if you need anything. I know we don’t even know each other which makes this kinda crazy but yeah,” he shrugs his shoulders, gaze flitting down to his lap.

“I don’t know what to say..” Harry mutters under his breath more to himself really.

“You don’t need to say anything for now,” Louis quietly reassures him. “How about we just...are you hungry? Or do you like, need a cuddle? I’ll let you know I’m the world’s best cuddler,” he says with a grin. “Nobody else stands a chance,” he raises his eyebrows and extends his arms slightly as an invitation.

And how on earth could Harry say no to that. It’s the only thing he has wanted since he first laid eyes on the boy. So he nods his head and bites his lip while they rearrange themselves on the couch to get more comfortable. He leans his side on Louis, head on his shoulder and Louis winds his arm around Harry’s waist.

He doesnt’t know how long they stay in that position because every concept of time dissolves, all Hary can focus on is Louis’ breathing and his gentle touches. After a while Louis starts to card his fingers through Harry’s hair and he has to stop himself from letting out a pleased moan. He thinks, if he could purr he would.

He knows, this should be weird. Cuddling with a stranger after being found having a mental breakdown on a random street he stumbled upon should at least feel a little weird but it doesn’t. Not at all. He feels so cared for and relieved and he doesn’t have a clue how he does it but Louis has this ability to calm him down - his presence alone is doing that to Harry. He is going to hold onto that as long as Louis allows.

***

They fall asleep in each other’s arms, and it’s the best nap Harry has had in a long time. He can’t remember the last time he slept without nightmares, anxiety bubbling up whenever he woke from a particular bad dream. He wakes up alone a couple of hours later, the warmth from another body gone but a cozy blanket draped over him. It’s dark outside, he notes as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes. He can hear Louis in the kitchen and has to suppress a smile at the thought of the lovely boy who took him in.

“Oh, hey you’re awake,” he says with a fond smile to his lips as he makes his way into the living room. “I made you a cuppa of my favorite tea. Thought you could need it,” everything about him is soft including his voice.

“Thank you, Louis,” and Harry isn’t only grateful for the tea. Louis seems to understand when he contunies with a genuine sincerity in his voice. “for everything,”

“Of cource, love,” Harry’s stomach might explode with butterflies if he keeps up with the petnames.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes while they enjoy their tea and watch some telly and it feels like they have already done this a thousand times, at least to Harry. He has never in his life felt so at ease with another person and he wonders not for the first time how it’s possible to trust a stranger as much as he does in this moment.

When Harry finishes his cup, he realizes he probably already overstayed his welcome. He tries not sound too disappointed when he speaks. “I- ..should probably go now,” he sighs silently. “You already did so much for me. I shouldn’t bother you anymore,”

“What?” Louis shakes his head. “Harry, there’s no way I’m gonna let you wander the streets at night,”

“But-”

“No, you’re staying,” he almost pleads. “Please,”

Harry lifts his head to look into his eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t-”

“Yes,” he smiles and touches Harry’s knee comforting.

“Okay,”

Harry can’t hide his smile anymore. He is glad Louis lets him stay the night but he knows, the world looks different in the mroning and he can’t stop himself from wishing that he could stay here forever. In this flat by Louis’ side. He doesn’t know what got into him. He might be going insane (if he isn’t already).

***

“Louis, I’m not sleeping in your bed,” he complains for the third time in the last five minutes.

Louis just rolls his eyes at him again. “Listen, Harold-”

“My name isn’t Harold,” he whines but has to bite back a smile. He feels light for the first time in ages. That’s what Louis does to him.

“Yes, it is. So, listen Harold, it’s 1am. You’ve had a shit day. I’m not gonna let you sleep on my tiny couch,”

“It’s not even tiny! _You’re_ tiny,”

“Excuse me??” his jaw drops, a bewildered look on his face. “Did you just-,” he narrows his eyes. “I am not tiny. Don’t you dare say that ever again, Harold,” he points a finger at Harry, who is beyond amused at this point.

“Sure, sure,” he smirks.

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re doing. Don’t try to distract from what’s really going on here. You, my friend, are sleeping on the bed,” he insists. “That’s my last word,”

Harry giggles. “Louis, I somehow doubt that. Do you ever stop talking?” he wonders out loud. “but fine, I’m taking the bed,” he sighs exaggeratedly.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you. Finally,” he storms off then, shouting for Harry to follow him to his bedroom.

Louis sleeps on the couch, while Harry tries to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own but smells of Louis. He doesn’t mind at all.

Before they started their discussion about their sleeping arrangement, they talked for a while. Louis told him about his family, his siblings (there’s _a lot_ of them), about his job at a café around the corner, about his best friends Niall and Liam. About the time when he moved to London and how much he missed his family. Harry could relate. He told Louis about his home in Holmes Chapel, about his mom and how his stepdad lost his battle with cancer. He also told him how he has been struggling for a while now. Alone in the city, his depression acting up whenever he started overthinking.

They talked freely and without any judgement, in a way that Harry has longed for since forever.

***

Some nights are good, some nights he doesn’t struggle to fall asleep, exhausted and drained, no energy left to sort out the mess in his mind. On those nights it doesn’t take long for sleep to find him. 

It’s not one of those nights.

He is embarrassed. Ashamed of the state he was in when Louis found him. He thinks he doesn’t deserve his kindness, his golden heart.

He tosses and turns, negative thoughts clouding his mind again. This is when it gets bad. Whenever his mind doesn’t allow him to rest, even though his body is absolutely exhausted, he feels like he might explode with frustration. He is so so tired.

Just as he contemplates on whether he should get up or not, the door squeakes open, Louis’s head poking in. “Haz? You awake?” he whispers.

Harry lifts his head a bit. “Yeah,”

Louis makes his way towards the bed after closing the door behind him. “Can we..? Can I-” he gestures to Harry’s right.

“Yes, of course,” Harry tries to cover up the relief in his voice with a clearing of his throat. He lifts the blanket for Louis.

“Thank you,”

“Louis, it’s your bed,” he begins.

“I know. Still, I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind,” he says quietly. “Can’t really sleep on the couch,” he admits with a shrug of his shoulders.

“You should’ve just said something before,” Harry feels guilty but can’t really bring himself to regret anything when he is sharing a bed with Louis. The proximity causes a shiver to go down his spine. They are so close, breathing each other in.

Louis looks as if he wants to say something, mouth open for a second before he closes it again.

“What?” says Harry.

Louis hesitates. “I missed you,” he sighs, looking into Harry’s eyes.

His skin glows in the moonlight coming through the window. The shade of his eyes is a different blue, it’s comforting - calming. Harry wants to brush the strands of his soft fringe out of his face. So he does.

“Missed you too,” he lets his hand travel down his cheek and neck to his shoulder before it lands on Louis’ waist. Louis is pleased, he can tell. He sends him a warm smile.

The whirlwind of negative thoughts is gone. He doesn’t really know how he can thank Louis. He thinks, the boy wouldn’t understand anyway, so he just moves forward to kiss Louis’ forehead. He hears a pleased sigh escape his mouth as Harry’s lips touch his skin ever so softly.

***

After that night, Harry never really leaves. They fall into a routine, it’s become a _thing_. They have both been lonely before they met and now after about a month of spending as much time together as they can master, everything feels so natural. They go their seperate ways to work, but always come home to each other. Home means Louis’ flat. They share the bed every night, always cuddled up in each other’s warmth. They talk for hours, about everything and nothing, sharing stories and words that they wouldn’t speak to anyone else.

So it’s definitely a thing. Harry can’t deny it anymore, it scares the shit out of him. He soon became so dependent on Louis’ presence that he finds himself missing the boy whenever he isn’t around. And he doesn’t know what it all _means_. He knows what he wants it to mean, but he can’t do that to their friendship - can’t risk it. He needs Louis.

But. He also wants to touch him every chance he gets. He finds himself wanting to hold his hand when they take walks. He has the desire to kiss him goodnight whenever they go to bed. He wants to feel Louis’ lips on his own, wants to tell him those words that have been stuck in his mind. Those words that shouldn’t be there at all after such a short time they have known each other for, but they still are. He can’t stop thinking about it.

He has been doing so much better. The heaviness is not as present anymore, doesn’t follow him around wherever he goes. The sadness turned into emptiness before it dissolved into nothingness, now replaced by smiles and laughter. Well, and the butterflies are still very much alive.

***

Harry and Louis go on dates. At least that’s what Harry started calling it a while ago. Dates without the usual romantic gestures, even though he isn’t very sure about that either. It’s confusing is what it is.

The other night, when they walked back to the flat after a particular nice dinner Louis took Harry’s hand, both their fingers intertwined. Hope flared up in Harry’s chest. He loved the feel of Louis’ hand in his own, soft and warm. He didn’t want to let go.

Despite all the cuddling, the dates and the look he can see in Louis’ eyes, Louis is still unsure - almost careful, scared that he is going to ruin whatever they have. Harry can read as much.

So that evening, when they are situated on the couch watching Louis’ favorite show, he can’t really blame himself for doing what he does. He adores his boy so much. 

Louis keeps sneaking glances at him ever so often, laughs his beautiful laugh whenever he finds something extremely funny. It’s endearing.

“I’m in love with you,” Harry says out of the blue.

He isn’t sure if he said it loud enough for both of them to hear but then Louis snaps his head towards his direction and Harry holds his breath.

Louis stares at him for what seems like several minutes before he says something.

“Yeah?” he asks softly, hope in his voice.

“I love you, Lou,” Harry can’t hold it back anymore, wants to say it a hundred times now that it’s not hidden in the depths of his heart anymore.

“That’s good,” a blinding smile on Louis’ face. “‘Cause I love you too. So much, Harry,” he takes one of Harry’s hand in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb before he raises his other hand to Harry’s cheek, caressing it gently.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks a little breathlessly and before Harry can answer him properly, he feels Louis’ lips touch his own with so much softness he can’t believe this is real.

And when they go to bed that night, neither of them is holding back. Their feelings pouring out of them, with honest words and burning touches.

It feels like _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'd love some feedback. Please leave me kudos and/or a comment. It would mean the world to me.
> 
> Please share my [fic post](http://i-sawr-it-in-your-eyes.tumblr.com/post/174341108746/breathe-again-4k-by-i-sawr-it-in-your-eyes) if you enjoyed it.


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